Millie, her eyes glistening with tears, wrapped herself around his waist from behind, her voice a broken whisper.
“Peter, why won’t you… Do you think I’m filthy?”
Peter whirled around, his breathing still heavy with frustration.
“How could I ever think that?” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m carrying so much right now, Millie. Just give me some time. I’ll make sure you’re never seen as just a mistress.”
Peter tenderly brushed her hair back from her forehead and pulled her close, his lips trailing soft kisses across her face.
Millie’s smile turned cold as her gaze shifted to where I lingered, her expression daring me to react, triumphant in her perceived victory.
I could only stare, feeling a rising sense of disbelief.
So, in Peter’s mind, I was a burden, a responsibility he had to bear. But to him, Millie was someone precious, someone he had to shield from any pain.
It was tragic, really. Millie hadn’t even spared herself any pain; she was her own worst tormentor.
From the moment she discovered I was Peter’s wife, she began her subtle, cruel taunts. Every time I came to the hospital for my prenatal checkups, she would find a reason to be there.